


i'm in the same fate with you

by AbsintheBlanche



Series: over night [1]
Category: Chevalier: Le Chevalier D'Eon
Genre: Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Canon Universe, F/M, France (Country), French Revolution, Manga & Anime, Mild Angst, Philosophy, Politics, Pre-French Revolution, Reality, Religion, Religious Content, Very Slight Romance, generally very benign honestly, i'm in the same fate with you, le chevalier d'eon, lia de beaumont - Freeform, mainly just talking, maximilien robespierre - Freeform, might offend, over night, very slight fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 08:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21194879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsintheBlanche/pseuds/AbsintheBlanche
Summary: Robespierre believes revolution is inevitable and necessary; Lia has faith in God's chosen King. Each tries to convince the other of their view on what's right amidst their neglected love. Le Chevalier d'Eon, pre-French Revolution. Semi-canon AU.





	i'm in the same fate with you

“Stay,” she whispered, eyelids stilled at half mast. Her hands folded neatly around the hardly-touched glass of bourgogne settled in front of her on the table. Maximilien sat opposite to her, gaze fixed on her downcast eyes. One hand rested on the table; the other was held slightly raised, with his elbow as leverage, idly turning a steel lighter around between his slim fingers.

Either way, Maximilien intended to remain within French borders, but he understood the meaning beneath Lia’s singular uttered word. _Stay by my side._ He felt a dull ache in his chest, envisioning the prospect of leaving his beloved—alone, in a nation that did not love her too. Her voice sounded strained, lacking its usual content and confidence. He could acquiesce, promise that yes, he would stand by her until the end of time, and he knew that she would smile once more, eyes alight with hopeful mirth and willing to look him in his with the doting glimmer that made his heart quicken.

Instead, he said, “France needs me to go.” He raised his glass and sipped at the wine.

“France is the King.” Lia’s reply was fast, laced with an unnatural edge. “Robespierre, to turn your back on the King is to betray France herself.”

_Robespierre._ The name cut painfully into his chest, but he easily suppressed a wince. His eyelashes fluttered as he took in the sight of this lady, suffering by the King’s decisions and yet remaining so resolutely devout in her loyalty to God’s designated servant. She was noble in that way, beliefs uncomplicated and steadfast, serving truthfully by the side of the monarchy with unquestioning loyalty. The King didn’t deserve it.

“The King is traitor to his own country,” Maximilien spoke with the slightest trace of a hiss in his voice, to which he had no doubt Lia noticed, “And to his people. His life is one defined by his indulgence in pompousness, while his citizens slave away and sell themselves to buy the threads of their lives. We suffer to pay for his gluttony. Is that fair to the people?” His tone was measured, and he was careful to control his deep resentment for the monarchy from engulfing his voice.

Lia closed her eyes. “It is the Lord’s will; it is not up to us. We can only do as we are destined.”

Maximilien allowed himself a momentary silence to fairly consider Lia’s words. He took another steady sip of his wine, setting it down soundlessly. “The Lord would not wish this injustice upon His people. The King is a tyrant, uncaring for the citizens. He has become corrupt by his power—to remove him is for the good of the nation.”

Lia’s eyes snapped open, and she lifted her head to face Maximilien with an unmistakable glint of conviction. “You cannot presume to know God’s will, Robespierre. The King is his chosen representative; it is written in the Bible.” A stranger may have resigned to her hostility, but Maximilien knew better. He searched her stare until he found it—an almost imperceptible furrow of the arched eyebrows, a minute quiver of the bottom lip. A tender softness resided beneath her determined exterior, tinted with desperation. If there existed any reason, any sign that could convince him that the people’s liberty was worth fighting for, this was it.

In Lia’s unwavering loyalty, Maximilien recognised a sacred love for the country. In her spirit lay the resolve of imperious passion and faith in the inherent good of humanity. In her secret tenderness resounded the sublime compassion for the wellbeing of Earth’s people that was inevitably shared by all uncorrupted men. Indeed, Maximilien could feel it beating in his own heart—the pure, innocent zeal for the liberation of all humankind, and his irrepressible horror towards the tyranny and oppression exercised by the monarchy, the aristocracy, all those who hoarded power and wealth.

Lia would say that it was their right to possess that power and wealth. Maximilien flicked at the lighter in his hands, unconsciously toying at the catch.

Lia’s muted blue irises had dropped to follow the lighter’s movements. She raised her glass to her mouth hesitantly, but set it down with no more than a brief touch of the liquid to her lips. “If you were to overthrow the King—to harm or defy him in any way—you would be committing a sin imperviously contrary to the will of the Lord.” Flick, turn, turn. This time when she looked up her eyes were vulnerable and beseeching. “Maximilien, please. Stay with me for eternity.”

For eternity. This time he did flinch as he caught the implication of her words. “He promises eternity to those who tread the path of the righteous. And if the just path does not lead me to eternity,” and his eyes narrowed as he steeled himself, “then so be it.” Another taste of the wine; Lia continued to nurse hers in her hands.

“No, do not allow yourself to think in that way. Unconditional servitude to the Lord is right, so do not doubt Him. Your reasons sound so much alike to those wielded by the anthropocentrists, those who deny any faithfulness to God. As soon as you reject that God’s will is right, you in essence deny the holiness, the existence, of the Lord.”

Flick, turn, turn of the lighter. He was absently aware of its circular movements, but had focused his attention on the sky beyond the open window of the room. The horizon was grey and misty, unclear. “I do not share the faith of the anthropocentrists.” If it could be considered faith at all. “They worship humankind, placing mortality on the pedestal meant for the divine. They revel in human urges, vices, primitivity, with no thought for the righteousness that must be followed by all people for the justice of the people. Their practices are scandalous and wild. Their indulgence is no better than the King’s.” He searched the sky for lightness, aware of his gaze growing inexplicably fervent. He exhaled with deliberacy, closing his eyes for the greater half of a moment and reached for his glass. “For human virtue to prevail, there must exist a God upon which humans can be guided and their vices tempered. I simply believe that this God asks most finally for our virtuousness.”

“Robespierre.” Lia slowly tilted her glass, causing the bourgogne to swirl in vaguely alluring circles. “To be virtuous you must remain loyal to that which the Lord declares saintly. If you believe in the righteousness of God then you mustn’t sin in the name of virtue. God’s will does not change. What was just in the time of France’s birth remains just as long as France lives, and longer. The King is France; the King is God’s will.”

“Liberté, egalité, fraternité. Those are the principles of the righteous.” Gaze still trained on the night sky, his breath hitched and his gaze caught. The rising moon hung suspended by the torn tendrils of wafting grey-blue cloud. Maximilien brought his free hand to his chin contemplatively, still continuously turning the lighter over in the other. The moonlight flickered uncannily, a strangled picture of asphyxiation by the ropes and nooses of light-obscuring clouds. “The world is unstable,” he distantly heard himself say. “France is changing—must change.”

Lia rose from her chair and strode purposefully to rest in front of Maximilien. She crouched down, eyes benign, cupping his face tenderly in her calloused hands; unable to fight his racing pulse, Maximilien leaned into her touch. He was suddenly stricken by an inexplicable grief, resigned to Lia’s unwillingness to traverse with him the journey he knew he ought to take, and the uncertainty of ever holding her close again within the doubtlessly divisive chaos of the impending uprising. “Maximilien,” she breathed, ever softly, emotion leaking stagnant into the air between the two. “Don’t go. Please.” Staring back into her misty blue irises, Maximilien felt waves of the same mournful sorrow emanating from her spirit.

His finger suddenly tripped the lighter’s catch, and a single spark flew into the air between them, then dissipated. His gaze trailed after it, lingering in the space it had set alight. “The flames of revolution have already begun. My duty is to fan them and let them burn.”

Inexplicably his gaze shifted again to the night sky, only to find that the rising moon, too, had dissipated into the darkness of night.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this piece deals with potentially controversial religious and political topics. the views expressed in this fanfic do not necessarily reflect those of the author, just the characters (hopefully, if i've characterised them well).
> 
> this piece is set somewhere between the canon universe of 'le chevalier d'eon' (the anime) and reality. for instance, lia's characterisation as an individual person is based off the anime, but much of robespierre's views are taken from the real life historical figure.
> 
> beyond that, i won't ramble any more. constructive criticism is very very welcome; don't hesitate to comment or reach out to me in private messages. thanks for reading! <3


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